


By And By

by philosoverted



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy, don't tell me elizabeth would sit there waiting, shamelessly optimistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 07:09:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9808640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philosoverted/pseuds/philosoverted
Summary: "Calypso sent me. Said your fool crew had endangered your life." His eyes shine, a little darker than in his other life, a little more weary, but he's just as steadily in love as ever. Will/Elizabeth, post AWE.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this, oh... seven years ago? And it's still one of my favorites so I'm posting it here too.

The clang and clamor of men off-shore alerts Elizabeth to the return of the _Pearl_ a week after Will's gone, and she's terribly relieved to be back aboard, to have something to do and somewhere to be. She already misses Will like an aching tooth, the pulse of pain thudding somewhere around her own heart.

But she takes his heart with her and goes back to sea, to scorching days of work on deck with salt-worn ropes and the hardened men who've learned to love her like they love the water below. She might be king now, but a pirate king's not so different from a captain, and Elizabeth's never been afraid of pulling her own weight. She rises early and only Jack and Barbossa seem to notice she always volunteers for the shift right before sundown.

Jack stands watch with her sometimes. He folds his arms gracefully against the rail, back straight, watching the water with nonchalant eyes. "Never thought he suited you much," he says once, and she reads him pretty well but even she's not sure what he's getting at now. He doesn't sound judgmental, just matter-of-fact.

She doesn't answer him, doesn't need to. She's indifferent to his approval or lack thereof; and in any case, after a moment, she sees it in the squint of his eyes in spite of his words. Jack, more than anyone else, knows Will had the farthest to come and that maybe in the end he's surpassed them all.

Will taught her to fight, and Jack taught her to fight dirty; but she's the one who taught Will to _play_ dirty, to twist his words and keep his motives hidden. She's the one who taught him to plan ahead. And now she's thankful she did, and she's thankful he's always been the more patient one between the two of them. He's got a long time to plan for.

Jack looks back out at the ocean. He doesn't answer what she doesn't say, a testament to their friendship, and Elizabeth finds herself growing more and more appreciative of the friendships she has as the ranks of friends continues to dwindle; she knows Jack now in a way she hardly did at the beginning.

"He'll be home by and by, love." As Jack turns and slips quietly away, his hand lingers last on the rail as he goes.

\--

It's less than a month later and Elizabeth's more than certain she's pregnant. Some days on the ocean are always harder than others; sometimes the work is hard and her knees ache from hours on a rocking deck, from squatting under the weight of heavy barrels. Her hands ache from knot-tying and sometimes from the cold in abusing stormy nights. But never like this; never all the time, unrelenting, a weariness she carries like a second body. That's how it starts.

Then she's throwing up over the edge, and everybody on board knows.

Jack's Captain (at the moment, at least), but it's Barbossa who lets her stay on until she's unfit for work. He knows it's time to settle her when the sight of her ungainly body is enough to make even Cotton's parrot squawk and startle when she gracefully waddles by.

They take her to a little island off Cuba. It's not a terribly large town, but Barbossa assures her there's some decent and respectable village women who know how to take care of her state of things. Elizabeth takes him at his word, and declines Jack's offer to take her to decent and respectable women who he knows instead.

They put her and Will's heart down in a little boat within sight of shore, with a full bottle of rum and enough money to bide her. Gibbs even manages to look at her without smiling like he's forgotten how to be anything but slightly sick to his stomach and trying to hide it. There are farewells, well-wishes for her delicate womanly disposition, and promises to come back to the island in a few months' time.

She returns the farewells, accepts the well-wishes, and disregards the promises. She knows they'll be back when they're back, and if she really wants to take to the water she won't wait for them to come for her.

\--

It's almost night now. The little boat swishes back and forth in the current, but doesn't move any closer to shore. She's only five hundred yards out; the tide's strong, it's fighting her more stubbornly than an English bulldog, and she's _tired_. The men had balked at putting in closer to a port with a fleet, and she could understand that. They balked further at bringing the _Pearl_ right into the reefs at the fleetless backside of the island, and she could understand that too. But she's left wondering if she's going to have to row all the way around this damned island to the port by herself with only her small pocket flask of water and a bottle of rum to tide herself on, a bottle of rum she can't _drink_.

"Easy as _pie_ ," she mimics to herself darkly, with a pull on the last word. She's thinking of Barbossa's parting nonchalant words. "Come back here and I'll show you how easy my sword can be, _like pie._ "

Three hours into night and her predicament's stopped being even slightly amusing. She's cramping up. Waves of pain lap against her like the dark water against her boat, and Elizabeth knows enough to recognize it for what it is. She also knows she's early; it's not by much, but she's hungry and feeling haggard and more than a little scared, so she pulls the oars back into the boat and lies down and looks at the stars.

They're peaceful, like the swinging of the tide and the black lapping waves and the sharks bumping up underneath her boat. She grits her teeth and ignores the sharks, ignores the way the boat's drifting further out again at an alarmingly rapid rate, and gradually the pangs stop and her eyes drift shut in exhausted sleep.

Suddenly there's a bright light hovering in front and above her: she blinks and folds forward, groping for her gun, and it's in her hand before she's awake enough to see she's in the the wake of a large ship. A man's hanging over the edge of the rigging with a lantern in hand. "Captain," the man calls roughly, his voice more surprised than harsh.

Another man comes running and he's down over the edge before the first has finished getting out of his way; the man on watch adjusts by hanging the lantern further over the edge and standing guard at the top. The second man is just above the waterline when he unwinds the coiled rope at his shoulder and throws it across her little boat. "Tie it off! I'll pull you in." His voice is husky, sharp with authority, roughened by salt.

Elizabeth stiffens but does as he says. She knows that voice.

"Will?" She calls back; as she's drawn in closer, she can see that it's indeed her husband, smiling around a tight worry she's only seen him wear a few times in his life. She also realizes with a start that he's been expecting her.

Soon she's up against the larger ship - she can see the golden detailing now - and Will expertly ties up her little boat and follows behind her up the ladder with one hand always at her back. Will's father greets them at the deck with his own heavy coat to wrap around her shoulders.

\--

"How did you find me?" she asks, when she's found her way with help into the captain's bed, her feet curled in-between the captain's. Will touches her like he'll lose himself if he lets go, shifting his hands when she shifts, and the callouses are just as rough as she remembers but the hands are just as warm. He doesn't seem any different in any way, as if he's stuck in the same state of salty cleanness, of bright daring life and bravery in his heart, of not needing any food or drink. At least he's tangible; at least there's a scar to mark the difference.

He buries his head against her shoulder, breathing in her scent, and she can feel his lips as they brush against her collarbone. "I always know where my heart is."

She smiles into the darkness, reaching a palm up to brush at his forehead.

She asks him how he's allowed to be here, and he reaches across her to pick up a bracelet from the small rough-hewn bedside table. It's delicate and it jingles with the clink of hundreds of tiny bones from birds.

"Calypso sent me. Said your fool crew had endangered your life." Exasperation colors his voice as he pauses and turns her gently toward him. His eyes shine, a little darker than in his other life, a little more weary, but he's just as steadily in love as ever. She sees it like a fact written in the planes of his face, and the sight spreads warmth through her body like fire.

Will brushes his hand against her cheek, the motion igniting a longing she's surprised she can still feel with a baby so close to coming, and then he continues talking in the same even tone. "She knew if I had to ferry the souls of my wife and _child_ -" here he pauses, hands between them, and Elizabeth feels a glimmer of the awe he must have felt at the news - "she'd have to find another captain." Will's eyes flicker over to the map table, and on top of it, the chest containing his heart. His lips quirk up in an amusement that Elizabeth finds slightly morbid, considering.

Will pauses, but then he pushes his hands under the covers and up the hem of her shirt, and he spreads his palms out. "Calypso takes care of her own," he says at last, and Elizabeth knows he's talking about the baby, a child of the sea if ever there was one.

In the earliest hours of morning, Elizabeth stands at the stern window of her husband's cabin as he sleeps in the narrow berth behind her. She wonders if he sleeps at all in the endless starcast nights and all the strange worlds bordering it, or if he only sleeps - eats - dreams - when he's here with her.

He's curled under a grey wool blanket, the leading edge pulled up under his chin, and in the dimness of pre-dawn he looks so young.

It's very hard to let go of the things she desperately wants to keep, even when they come to her on the wings of a gift. She remembers Jack's words and thinks: _yes, but everything good that comes by and by has a little bitterness in it, too._

\--

He sets anchor outside the harbor on the other side of the island, next day, so early that the sun is barely a smudge of light on the horizon. Shrouds of fog line the bay and cast everything in a clean slate blue. The _Dutchman_ isn't in any danger from earthly ships, and in any case there doesn't happen to be a single ship from the Royal Navy anywhere to be seen. Will just laughs, and says he's going to skin Jack's self-serving hide right off him for nearly getting his wife killed over a fleet of raggedy fishermen.

Elizabeth knows he would keep her and deliver the baby himself, but he's never been anything but a blacksmith and a pirate and a captain of the dead: never a doctor, and furthermore Calypso is waiting.

So she leaves him on the water and rows to the dock with the help of the first mate, who is free from any curse and serving only voluntarily. She'd spoken to the older William Turner the night before; in his own quiet and steady way he'd asked her to forgive him for Norrington's death.

It's a hard bargain, a hard thing to forgive.

The tide's easier to handle on this side of the island, and Will's father rows them to the dock without any trouble. When they step from the dinghy, he steadies her with a rough hand on her elbow when she totters on the planks. She turns to him and takes the chest holding Will's heart from his other hand, and then she touches his stocky shoulder and smiles a little. "Take care of your son," she says, as a parting absolution.

"Take care of yours," he calls to her as she walks away.

It doesn't occur to her until the third William is born to wonder how he knew.

\--

The baby's born three days later in an inn called _The Salty Crustacean_ \- the last word spelled incorrectly, but helpfully illustrated for possible meaning by the crab-shaped board it's stenciled on. It isn't the prettiest of places, but it's clean. The name is oddly comforting, too; she hardly believes in coincidences after everything and all it's led to.

In another two mornings, Elizabeth manages to pace by the window for a while with the baby at her shoulder, letting her eyes rest softly on the sea. When she's stronger she'll look for work in the docks; when William's a little older she'll return to the water. The ocean's grey today, surly and unknowable, but for her it's slanted with slabs of golden light.

She knows she'll see Will again, maybe not soon, maybe not until the baby's grown enough to go with her, because she wouldn't leave her son behind any more than she'd leave the chest containing Will's heart. But the seabirds are calling, and she knows it won't be long. There's a goddess looking out for her entire family, after all: and goddesses, like wives, don't like to be separated from what is theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't believe for a moment Elizabeth would just sit there waiting for Will. She'd be out there on the water with her boy, and whenever she'd come across a shipwreck, any time there was a battle, she'd be looking through the gunsmoke for a tall dark ship and its tall dark captain.
> 
> Plus... I mean... come on. Come _on._ With all the ingenuity these two have displayed over the years, you really want to tell me it's not canon that they'd find ways to work the system? If you don't think Elizabeth slips love letters into the coat-pockets of men she's shot, or little William finds bottles carrying messages to him and his mother while he's playing on the shore, or mysterious men hand Elizabeth the latitude and longitude for somewhere close by where she'll row out and find the Dutchman anchored for a few hours only... 
> 
> Elizabeth is not a woman who waits for her life to happen to her. Will is hers, dammit, and by God she'll have him.


End file.
